<p>The first time I saw common milkweed (Asclepias syriacus) it was growing along the fence-line of a vacant lot that I walked past every day on the way to work in Toronto. I admired the blue-green leaves and the scented tassel of pale pink flowers; the fat, beaked seedpods; and the gossamer-parachuted seeds. It was with sorrow that I learned it was an unwelcome weed.</p>
<p>Fast forward thirty years, and I now live an hour’s drive from the northern boundary of the city, and have a semi-wild garden in which native plants (weeds, if you will) are tolerated around the edges. Always looking to expand my garden, I decided to do something with a grassy clearing among the wild apple trees behind the barn. Since the area is hidden from view, by the barn in one direction, and by bushes and trees in the others, I decided to call it my Secret Garden.</p>
<p>After enlisting my spouse’s help to mark out the boundaries of the garden, weed-whack the knee-high grasses and weeds, and then apply weed-killer, I began the process of digging the area to remove all the roots and rocks. I was about half-way through digging when I noticed the fat Monarch butterfly caterpillar hanging desperately to a dying Virginia-creeper leaf.</p>
<p>Work ceased immediately. Over the next few days, I monitored the progress of the caterpillar into a handsome chrysalis. Then – disaster - the leaf it was attached to fell off the vine. With spousal assistance, I attached the chrysalis and the dead leaf to a fence-post, and we checked on it regularly until one day we found the chrysalis an empty husk and the butterfly gone.</p>
<p>In the Secret Garden, I looked around for plants that the Monarch caterpillar would have been feeding on, and found a couple of common milkweeds growing in just one spot, to the right of the garden entrance. I decided to let the milkweed remain, but surrounded it with a 3ft-wide “moat” of weed cloth and shredded-bark mulch.</p>
<p>Next spring, I realized I had made an error by allowing the milkweed to release its seeds. The wind must have blown all of them onto my new flowerbeds, because I found milkweed seedlings coming up everywhere. They were difficult to remove, with brittle roots that broke off easily, and a propensity for germinating close to the stems of perennials and shrubs that I had planted.</p>
<p>That year, the couple of stems multiplied into at least a dozen and when in flower their scent filled the garden, although disappointingly I did not see any Monarch butterflies or caterpillars. This time, I made sure to remove all the milkweed seed-pods before they opened.</p>
<p>I thought I had it licked, but to my horror, this spring the roots of the milkweed tunneled under the weed barrier and began coming up in my flowerbeds. I frantically ran to get weed-killer and sprayed the heck out of it. After multiple applications of various toxic substances, it’s starting to look a little sick, but by no means vanquished. I think I’ve learned my lesson. A little milkweed goes a long way.</p>
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